The Scourge of Two Worlds
by Fear Mage
Summary: Lord Voldemort hates Harry Potter for being his downfall. Voldemort wants to rule the wizarding world more than anything, except maybe killing Harry Potter. Voldemort has found a new weapon... Yawgmoth! (Crossover with Magic: The Gathering)
1. Default Chapter

**I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I own Magic: The Gathering.**

            _"For hundreds of years I have been imprisoned. They thought they destroyed me! How wrong they were! In the blast created by the Weatherlight_, my consciousness was stripped away and thrown through the Blind Eternities. The Planeswalker Urza sealed the spell that stopped me from returning to my home… returning to Dominaria. He created a similar seal on the other planes of the Multiverse, but it was no where as powerful as the one on Dominaria. Over the centuries, I have found a week spot in the spell. I have made contact with the one man who I believe can help free me from my exile. I have found an ally in this Lord Voldemort…"__

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            _"I was once the most powerful wizard in the world. People spoke not of me, for fear of incurring my wrath. I could have been the ruler of the wizarding world… if not for that blasted Potter child! I thought I could stop the prophecy from fulfilling itself by killing the boy, but my spell backfired on me. The mightiest Auror's couldn't defeat me, and I was beaten back by a mere baby. It took me fourteen years to get my body back, and it won't be that many more until I get my revenge! I'll have Harry Potter's head if it's the last thing I do. But, I've come to realize that I can't do it myself. That's why I have invested faith and power into an ancient evil. I have found a new pawn for my game of Wizard's Chess, and his name is Yawgmoth!…"****_


	2. Failed Occlumency

            It was midnight on Privet Drive. A light fog hung in the air, giving the quiet street an eerie mood. The full moon further added to the mood, trying hopelessly to pierce the fog.

            Down the road, at Number 4, the mood of the street outside wasn't on any of the inhabitants minds. Vernon and Petunia Dursley slept in a queer cacophony of snores in the master bedroom. In the next largest bedroom, Dudley Dursley slept with his rump in the air. Around his bed were mounds of toys and gadgets, none of which were broken. All of his broken toys were in the smallest bedroom down the hall. In that room, toys were piled against the wall, many of the parts in separate locations or not present at all. Out of place among the damaged playthings was a bed, nightstand, and a trunk. 

The trunk was an odd looking one. It looked to be covered in a dark, aged leather. It had thick leather straps, and dull, bronze clasps. Above the lock was a crest bearing a lion, raven, snake, and badger around a stylized "H".

            The nightstand was a normal looking one. It was light, stained wood. But on it were several rolls of yellowish parchment, vials of ink, quills, a long, smooth, wooden stick, and a cage. In this cage, a large, snowy white owl slept with her head underneath her wing.

            But the bed was the oddest of all. Sleeping in it was a boy. A sixteen year-old boy. Had you known the Dursley's, you'd never have known he was there, much less sleeping in the house. Sleeping couldn't accurately describe what the boy was doing. He was tossing and turning in his bed, sweat running profusely down his head from his uncontrollable black hair. This boy was Harry Potter. He had been forced to live with his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon after Voldemort killed his parents.

            Harry was having a nightmare. Something very wrong. He could tell Voldemort was up to something. Harry had a special relationship with Voldemort. He could at times sense how Voldemort was feeling, and occasionally, he "peered" into Voldemort's mind while sleeping. But Harry wasn't supposed to. He had been forced to learn how to close his mind to Voldemort during his fifth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, had required him to take Occlumency lessons with his least favorite Professor, Snape. Harry had tried to practice Occlumency all summer, and had some luck. But that night was a rare exception.

            Harry jerked forward in his bed. Sweat cascaded down his face and down his chest and back, causing his black T-shirt to stick. Even before wiping the sweat from his brow, Harry shot a hand to the lightning-bolt scar on his forehead. It seared in agony at the moment.

            Harry pulled off his shirt and wiped his forehead. Then he tossed it to the corner and sat up to his nightstand. He quickly wrote a letter to Professor Dumbledore explaining the dream and how his scar had hurt. Dumbledore would need to know if Voldemort was up to something, even if Harry didn't completely know what it was. He couldn't talk to the Dursley's about it. Uncle Vernon would yell at him, and Dudley would laugh and call him crazy.

            Harry knew something had to be done…


	3. Author's Note

This story is on a temporary hiatus until I finish another, more interesting story I am working on. At that point, this message will be deleted.  
  
If you would like to know about the other story I'm doing, it's a Harry Potter crossover also, but with the last franchise you'd expect. 


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